


Sive and the Spy

by sirfeit



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: M/M, Remix, daemon AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25172845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirfeit/pseuds/sirfeit
Summary: spy!Murphy but what if he had a daemon. a remix of “I’ll Be Good” and “hold fast to the turning earth”. this involves spoilers for both works, so really, only read if you’re familiar with both
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/John Murphy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Sive and the Spy

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [hold fast to the turning earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23106622) by [oogaboogu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/oogaboogu/pseuds/oogaboogu). 
  * Inspired by [I'll Be Good](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6115399) by [sirfeit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirfeit/pseuds/sirfeit). 



> ‘Yeah, Clarke was telling me. She and Ajax are already thinking of how you and Sive could make a fine team of spies.’  
>    
> Murphy raised an eyebrow. ‘Plans for spies already? Does Clarke ever stop?’ Secretly, though, he was a little charmed. Sive the Spy. It had a ring to it.
> 
> \--
> 
> the timeline in this is a little weird because “hold fast to the turning earth” and “I’ll Be Good” have different timelines and premises…obviously. But I sure am a sucker for spy!Murphy. don’t think about it too hard! just enjoy it!

It happens like this: Lexa and her tiger ask him to be a spy for the Coalition, for the combined forces of the clans, and he says yes, absolutely, because he has no choice when it’s presented like that, so neatly. Sive, curled up in his pocket, doesn’t have any strong objections, and it sounds cool. They have a talent, together: they can be far apart and she can be his eyes, his ears; and he can use those for the good of the Coalition. For the good of himself.

Lexa smiles at him, gentle, and Clarke touches his hand, like she’s pleased, and he wants their approval, wants to be warm with it, wants to be sick with the excess of it, because their approval means power — power and safety, for him and for Sive. He is always thinking one step ahead, trying to scramble what he can together for their continued well-being.

Clarke gives him a tattoo on his ankle, just above the bone: a sun. “Six months,” she says. “You have six months to get into camp and kill Pike and then get back to us.”

“Okay,” he says, and his mouth is full of sand.

“You’ll keep him safe?” Clarke asks Sive, sticking her head out of his pocket, and Sive glares at her. There’s no love lost between them.

“We will work together,” says Sive, simple.

“Alright, then,” says Clarke, bemused but unoffended. Ajax, on her own shoulder, simply preens.

—

A young boy comes to visit him, later, when he’s still in Polis. “Ai laik kom Moss,” he explains, which is pure nonsense to Murphy. His daemon is a wild goose, following him in. Moss brings Murphy a plate of sweets, and for a moment, a comforting presence. Murphy swallows the sweets and tries not to think of the future ahead.

—

The man that takes him out of Polis and into Arkadia is named Prosper. He has no daemon, and Murphy does not ask. Prosper has a knife-smile and Murphy is sure he would just as soon kill him as answer him. And he — remembers what that’s like, anyway. To be separated. To be _without._ He is — unexpectedly empathetic.

—

In Arkadia, he rooms with Bellamy. He keeps the top bunk and watches Juno curl into sleep on the rug by the desk, one eye open, watching him. He sends Sive away to spy for him; scrambling in the narrow passageways of the Ark, in the pipes where no one else can fit, that they don’t need anymore because the air is free here, oxygen enough for everyone. Bellamy’s suspicious of him, but not enough to cuff him to the bunk; not enough not to invite him to take a shift on Pike’s guard, not enough to do anything about it. He works together with Sive, passing information back and forth to each other: Pike’s weaknesses, the way his office is set up. Sive finds him a little poison that he can give to Pike’s daemon, a frog, that will paralyze them both.

He waits, still. He’s scared of it, sure; scared of the task he still has left to complete. Scared more of losing his nights in the room he shares with Bellamy; the settled nature of it, how he knows that he’s safe, like this. He tells himself he has six months.

And then all of a sudden he doesn’t have six months. He has until the evening, or Lincoln and Kane and Sinclair will be executed for treason, because someone else was doing something about this while he was wasting time, flirting gently with Monty or being part of his silly little fight club.

He bites his nails. He chews on his lips. Sive sits up against his neck — that’s what I’m sensitive about, you little demon — and mirrors him. “We have to go now,” she says, something they both know.

“Yeah,” he says. He brings Bellamy’s gun. He goes.

—

Killing Pike is the easiest thing in the world. Killing Pike is the hardest thing he’s ever done. Pike drinks from the poisoned cup, easy, easy, easy. Pike doesn’t move, and his little frog goes still. He tries to shoot Pike, but the frog is still there after he does it the first time, and the gun is so warm in his hands — he has to lean over, has to slit his throat with his knife, and there’s blood all over his hands. There’s golden — stuff all over his palms. He turns to wash his hands at the little sink in Pike’s office, and Sive comes sprinting back to the office, out of breath and — “Murphy! Murphy! We have to —“ and then Juno is there, nosing her way into the room.

Juno sits by his feet, and watches him wash his hands. It’s obvious what he’s been doing here, what he was meant to. When he tries to leave, Juno steps in front of him and growls, low in her throat. He leans back against the counter. Sive curls up in his pocket again. They wait for Bellamy.

—

Bellamy cuffs his hands behind his back, and Sive knows not to bite Bellamy, not like this. There is too much between them — too much tension, too much mistrust, but there was — they had had something, maybe, before.

Of course Murphy has fucking ruined it now.

 _He didn’t take the gun._ Sive in his ear, and he doesn’t give anything away, just starts breathing, heavier, panicky, tugging against the cuffs, struggling against Bellamy’s hold. Juno stops before Bellamy does.

Bellamy pins him against the wall, uses a hand on his throat to keep him still (Sive hisses, her little teeth showing, and it’s almost funny). He unlocks one cuff from behind murphy, pulls his arms forward, and re-locks the cuff. Murphy’s breathing evens out, despite himself, the hand to his throat.

“This isn’t how you take power,” Bellamy tells him, and is this really what you think this is about, Blake? “You earn it, you don’t kill for it.” He takes his hand off Murphy’s throat. “You gonna be good now?” he asks, a mockery.

Murphy sniffles, and then nods. “I’ll be good,” he promises, voice hoarse.

 _The only thing that matters is not putting us in a cage,_ Sive whispers into Murphy’s ear, and leaps off his shoulder, skittering away. Bellamy dives for her, unthinking, and Murphy presses a gun to the back of his neck.

—

He gets Bellamy out of Arkadia. He gets Bellamy out of Arkadia, thanks to Harper and her daemon, still wild, manning the gate from the tall guard tower. Making friends gets you places in this world, as it turns out. Juno took off after Sive, somewhere into the nearby woods, and Murphy wonders how Bellamy feels with her so far away (just out of sight). Murphy feels nothing. Sive can take care of herself.

“Ai laik Mofi kom Skaikru,” he shouts into the woods. “You know me!”

When Prosper emerges from the trees, Juno and Sive following, Murphy has never been more glad to see them.

Bellamy looks to him, betrayed, but — understanding, finally, that Murphy is someone beyond Bellamy’s expectations of him, that he has his own secrets. Murphy guesses that’s a hard one for a man who killed a sleeping army meant to protect him; the revelation that other people can have lived realities different from his own. When Prosper bundles them all into his cart, taking a boltcutter to Murphy’s cuffs, Murphy tilts a smile up at Bellamy, a Pyrrhic victory.

“Told you I’d be a good spy,” he says, trying to keep steady as the cart begins to move, holding fast to the turning earth underneath him.

“You’ll be good,” agrees Bellamy, wry, and sinks a hand into Juno’s fur.

**Author's Note:**

> I did not read His Dark Materials but I did skim the wiki before writing this and I DID look up what a “sable” is so you could say I am actually the best at researching
> 
> thanks to Oogaboogu for writing “hold fast to the turning Earth”, which, frankly, folks, should be something you are reading Right Now. also thanks to w for putting up with my yelling


End file.
